The Dark Light of Day (The Dark Light of Day 1)

Before that very moment, I had thought the sight of Jake on his bike was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. That was no longer true. From that day forward, nothing could compare to the sight of Jake coming.

And nothing ever would.

I felt his heart beating though the pulsing of his cock.

“I love you, Bee. So much it fucking hurts.” It was the last thing he said before closing his eyes and giving in to his exhaustion.

Our bodies throbbed and hummed together as we came down from the high of our orgasms. Jake was still inside me when I fell asleep.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

FEAR KEPT ME FROM LOOKING UP. I was afraid if I glanced into his eyes I would throw myself at his mercy, beg him to stay here with me and lose my shit entirely. I looked at the shell driveway instead and shuffled my feet nervously, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. Jake ran his knuckles down my cheek. I leaned into his touch that just weeks ago would have sent me running at full speed.

It was still dark out— only one a.m. according to the alarm clock when we woke up. I was standing outside in my orange pajama pants and a white tank.

No hoodie.

No sleeves.

I was tired of hiding, at least in front of Jake. How I felt in public remained to be seen.

“I like this look,” Jake said, smiling down at me.

“Yeah, I was thinking tomorrow I would just wear a thong and nothing else.”

Jake raised his eyebrows.

“You fucking save that shit for when I get back.” He winked at me and went back inside to grab the last of his things from the table. When he came back out the old screen door creaked the protest I felt. “You know what I was thinking?”

“What’s that?”

“You know how much you love my tattoos?” Where was he going with this?

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you just embrace your scars and work them into some tattoos?”

“Jake, it’s most of my body. I would be one of those freaks on the believe-it-or-not shows.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I’m not saying get a full body piece, wise-ass. And I’m not saying you have anything to cover up or be ashamed of. I was just thinking instead of wearing sleeves, you could just get a full tattoo sleeve on your arm... make the scars part of the story, on your own terms.”

“Really?” I’d never even thought of inking over them.

“Just something to think about. Besides, it’d be kinda hot.”

“I knew you had another reason.” I pretend punched him in the arm.

Jake put his hands in the air like he was surrendering. “No other reason. I just want my girl to be as comfortable in her own skin as possible. I want you to be happy.”

“You know what? I think I’m actually getting there.” I smiled and I felt it all the way to my toes. It was the closest I’d ever been to being happy in my entire life. I had some work to do, but I was getting there slowly, with Jake’s help. I saw a light at the end of the tunnel I’d never seen before.

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to be stuck with the mental image of him leaving to play over and over again in my brain until he returned.

He walked over to me and tilted my chin up to him. “Hey,” he said. “Open your eyes.”

Reluctantly, I obeyed. Jake stared down at me with a smile that reached all the way to his ears. There was no monster lurking in his eyes now, no sign of the killer within. He didn’t have the look of a man who was leaving me to complete a kill contract.

But he was.

“I’d prefer it if you kept your eyes open,” he joked. “Walls tend to move into your path when you’re not watching.”

“Oh, they’re open all right.” I couldn’t help but lean in to kiss the beautiful blue eyed man who I loved.

Jake pulled away with a sigh and continued to pack the saddlebags on his bike. When he was done, he leaned back against the seat and even in the light of the single bulb buzzing from the porch I could see how beautiful he was. I loved everything about him, from the way he hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans that hung low on his hips to the way he ran his hand over his short goatee when he was thinking about something. There wasn’t a sight I wanted to see more on Earth than what was right in front of me.

But, he had to go.

Life or death. Kill or be killed.

In every sense, the burden of those words was upon him.

Jake ran his hand over his goatee, I smiled and my heart pounded like a steel drum in my chest. It was nearly drowned out by the sensation of ache and need in my sore body, a reminder of how we’d spent the last few hours.

I wondered if it was like this for everyone. Maybe, Jake felt this way with every girl he had fucked. Maybe to him, ours was run-of-the-mill stuff.

Jake gathered me into his arms until I stood between his legs. He kissed the top of my head and breathed into my hair. “Is it always like that?” I asked hesitantly, my voice a cracked whisper. I had to know.

“Is what always like that?”

“You know.” I tilted my head back toward the house, hoping the dim light hid the redness I felt creeping up my neck and onto my face.

Understanding and amusement mingled on his face. “No, Bee,” he laughed. “It’s not.”

For a split second, I thought he meant I’d been a disappointment, that he was used to better than what we’d shared.

He must have read my thoughts, “Bee,” he started, “it’s never, ever been like that for me. I’m not exactly a word person, but let me put it this way: I don’t think most people ever get to experience something that fucking amazing—” His gaze deepened. “—someone so amazing.” He leaned down to me. I could feel the brush of his goatee lightly graze my chin and cheek before his lips covered mine. Slowly, the heat that never had enough time to die down started to build again. His tongue gently parted my lip. When it met mine, our breathing became labored and my hands moved into his hair.

Jake pulled his lips away, but stayed close enough so I didn’t have to release my hold on him. “If I don’t leave now, young lady, I’ll be dragging you back to my bed and never, ever leaving.”

His hands rested on the nape of my neck as he pressed his forehead to mine. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

He growled in frustration. “Go!” he commanded, pointing to the apartment and placing an innocent final kiss on my forehead. I still didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“Abbbbyyyy,” he said, playfully warning me. I liked that side of him.

It almost made me forget what he was heading out to do.

Not that his work itself bothered me. I was worried about his safety, not his job. For once, I wasn’t going to question my feelings, or the black-and-white of what they should be.

“I’m going. I’m going,” I said, as I peeled myself away from him and slowly turned toward the door.

“Hey Bee!” he called when I had almost reached the front door.

“Yeah?” I asked and turned to see him already mounting his bike. His goggles were in place, and he adjusted the strap on his helmet.

Damn sexy.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible. I promise.” His face was a mix of happiness and dread

“You better,” I said, trying to keep a light tone to words that sat heavy on my tongue. I took a deep breath and summoned control I never knew I had. Then, I turned and walked back through the front door.

I sat on the floor with my back against the door until I heard the roar of his bike coming to life and the clattering spray of the gravel from under the wide tires as he pulled out onto the main road. I sat there long after the sound faded into the distance, Jake along with it.

“I love you,” I whispered to no one.

It wasn’t just that I had lost my virginity. It was that, other than with Nan, I had never felt so needed, so wanted, so sure of something in my entire life. What happened to mean, angry Abby Ford, with defenses stronger than Fort Knox? Who was this girl who had actually managed to let someone into her life besides her grandmother? For the first time since Nan died, I didn’t feel alone. I didn’t have to be Mean Abby with Jake. I didn’t have to put on a front and show him how tough I could be. I was softer around the edges. He challenged me in the best of ways. I even loved that he was just as stubborn as I was.

I would rather fight with him than have a normal conversation with anyone else.

It was at least an hour before I got up. I needed something to distract me, so I turned on Jake’s laptop and typed tattoos and scars into the search engine. I was shocked at the images that came back. Thousands of pictures, mostly of women, with colorful flowered tattoos inked over c-section scars, or in places where their limbs had been amputated. I spent hours looking at them all. The breast cancer survivors were what really caught my attention. So many had opted to embrace their scars – some with a full design filling their whole chest. They didn’t cover their scars. They decorated them.

It wasn’t just what I wanted now.

It was what I needed.

If the apartment phone hadn’t rung just then, I would have already been pulling up images of what I wanted depicted around my scars. I would have been up the rest of the night contemplating the new Abby, someone I was actually beginning to like.